Insomnia
by TheChicaChic
Summary: When Ruth can't sleep, Harry helps her in his own special way. A two-shot short fic.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: Part one of a two-shot that recently came to me. This part is smut-free, the second chapter probably not so much once it's finished.**_

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Evening has only just settled upon the peoples of London as Ruth makes her way home. As the summer sun continues to warm the Earth, she slowly walks through the early evening crowds, her eyes and ears sharp, even with the exhaustion that has settled upon her body.

216 hours have passed since she had more than a nap.

9 days.

And yet, she can't sleep.

It's not work, the Grid has been abnormally slow, no major threats or cases to cause the team to work their frequent long hours. Nor is it personal. Her relationship with Harry; though slow moving; has been moving forward, and they are in a good place.

A happy place.

She's not overtly worried about this lack of sleep. It's the same year after year as far back as she can remember; for a period of some weeks in the early summer, she _can't _sleep. Not for more than 3 hours at a time. Most nights she woke up between 1 and 2 after going to be around 11, and was aware for the rest of the night, resting but not sleeping.

Worried, she isn't, but she will admit to being tired, and today, she knows this tiredness affected her work. Kept her from focusing on the low level translations she had been working on, forcing her to turn them over to one of the night translators.

She also knows Harry knows.

Has seen his worried glances through the windows of his office, and though he's not mentioned it directly, today he had covertly taken her afternoon cup of tea and replaced it with chamomile, as well as hidden her chocolate biscuits from her afternoon snack.

As she unlocks and opens her front door, she watches the small piece of paper flutter to the ground, doing much to diminish worry in her mind that someone is waiting for her. Unlikely, she knows, but it's still a habit she's hard-pressed to break, especially as her current flat has no alarm system. She's just dropped her keys into her handbag when she hears a loud bang in the kitchen.

Followed by an equally loud 'bullocks'.

For those few seconds it takes her to register the voice as Harry's, her body has tensed, but just as quickly, the tension dissipates and she walks the short hall to the back room.

Stopping in the open doorway, she soundlessly watches the robust man chop up what looks to be lettuce as the scent of tuna and – _miso soup?_ – fill the air. At his feet, both Fidget and Twiddle meow, rubbing up against his trouser covered legs.

"Not now," he chides the cats, stepping over them on his way to the rubbish bin.

Amused, she sees it lying on the floor and knows the two mongrels have knocked it over in an attempt to get at the tuna can. He bends, trousers pulling taunt across his buttocks as he straightens the bin, dumping the unusable pieces of vegetable inside. For a split second, she contemplates slipping across the room to squeeze the round flesh, knowing from past experience that it will be solid, but he has straightened, scolding the animals again.

"They won't listen," she says softly, amusement lacing her voice.

He looks up, a grin mixed with naughtiness on his face. "Like their mum than."

"Cheeky."

Stepping into the room, she crosses to where he's standing; hand rising to cup his cheek as she gently presses her mouth against his. As she begins to move away, he wraps his arms around her waist, holding her body still as he continues the kiss.

It's the rubbish bin falling again that has them springing apart, an empty can of tuna rolling past their feet.

"Fidget!" Ruth admonishes, her gaze not leaving Harry's as he grins at her. She hears the cat hiss once and then run from the room as Harry squeezes her, a large grin still on his face. "And just what have you been up to?"

"Making you dinner," he answers, squeezing her once more before reluctantly stepping back. "Tuna salad on a bed of lettuce and roasted walnuts with a side of miso soup and passion fruit tea; all touted to promote a good night's sleep."

He's back at the counter, finishing up his strange, but wonderfully sweet, concoction. And for a moment, she stands there watching him. She'd almost passed up this chance at having a relationship with him for fear of what the others at work would think, and it's only because of his persistent, subtle wooing, and the diminutive issue of Cotterdamn that they are here now.

Harry.

Standing in her kitchen in his shirt sleeves and trousers, feet only covered in socks, hair rustled as he prepares an assortment of foods he had to have looked up on the Internet to induce sleep.

This is perhaps the sweetest, most romantic _thing_ that someone has ever done for her.

"Sit down," he says, pulling her from her thoughts as he turns to the table. "Supper's ready."

"And if this doesn't work?" she asks, settling into the kitchen chair.

"I have contingent plans then," he mutters, setting the plate and bowl in front of her. A quick peck on the lips, he's back at the counter getting his supper, muttering about contingent plans.


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN: Alright, so the smut-filled follow-up was a bit harder to finish than originally thought as the smut-muse is apparently in Berlin right now. I apologize for the delay and hopefully this somewhat makes it up to you. This wouldn't have been possible without Rosetintedblinspot not only helping to come up with the sensual massage idea, but also for pointing out it was missing emotion after reading it through. Thanks also to TheOofOof for giving this a read through. =0) Hope you enjoy.**_

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"Ruth?"

She lifts her head, turning to the right at the low rumble of his voice, and smiles.

He's standing before her, confident and comfortable in his nakedness, his large penis flaccid and curving slightly to the left as he stares at her. In his hands, he's holding a large glass of red liquid, and for a second she thinks he's brought her a glass of wine.

In a juice cup.

Until he mutters he's brought her a cherry juice with a hint of vanilla.

Pushing herself up, she watches as he moves to stand next to her, his penis bouncing slightly with each step, and she finds her mouth watering from want. With the few other men she's been with, she's never enjoyed oral sex; never liked the taste or feel of their erections in her mouth, or how tiny pieces of pubic hair would catch in her teeth; but with Harry, the one time he's allowed her to give him that kind of pleasure, she had surprisingly enjoyed it. So much so that as he holds the glass out to her, she has to force herself to take it instead of wrapping her hands - and mouth - around him.

He's made it abundantly clear tonight is _all_ about her.

And somehow she doesn't think he'll believe her if she tells him sucking him off _is_ what she wants.

Slowly, eyes still on his manhood, she wraps her fingers around the glass and sips, surprisingly enjoying the tart fruit drink as she manages half the cup. As she lifts it up to him, she finally meets his eyes and finds his gaze alight with mischief, and the gentle brush of flesh against flesh has her shivering.

From desire.

"Finish your bath." he says, lips pulling in a wicked smile as he turns and leave the room.

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She finds him sitting in her reading chair, legs crossed at his ankles with the remaining of the cherry juice in his hands. He looks relaxed and deep in thought as she steps into the room, cotton dressing gown wrapped securely around her curves. For a moment, she ignores the rest of the room and just watches him, her lips pulling into a smile that he's there.

With her.

And apparently very comfortable in her house, what with not only his sitting around completely nude, but also in how quickly and efficiently he's made some changes to her bedroom. As she glances at the clock on her nightstand, she sees that only 40 minutes have passed since he settled her into the warmed, lavender water, and yet he has subtly changed the atmosphere.

The curtains are drawn.

Bedroom door shut to keep the cats out.

Sheets turned down, revealing fresh, satin sheets.

Votive candles lit.

Veiled classical music filling the air.

And a large bottle of almond oil sitting in a bowl of water.

As she's standing there in awe, taking in the obvious time, effort, and love he's put into creating a fully relaxing environment, he's stood, setting the empty glass on the floor. His movements are fluid as he crosses to her, his eyes taking in the relaxed slump to her shoulders, and the large smile filling her face.

One he meets with one of his own.

Wordlessly, he takes her hand, raising it to his lips, tenderly kissing the smooth skin of her hand as he leads her to the bed. Stopping at the side, he smiles at her, his lips reaching for a kiss as his hands slide to the belt.

"Harry," she mumbles against the gentle pressure under his mouth.

Pulling back, he smiles again, silently raising a single finger to rest against her lower lip in an unspoken request for quietness. As the mellowing wisps of Mozart's _Eine Kleine Natchtmusikn_ fills the air, he undoes the knotted belt at her waist, his eyes huskily watching hers. The gown falling open, he stares at her a moment, eyes loving the curves, before slowly pushing the cotton fabric to the floor. Seeing her blush of embarrassment, he steps forward, arms sliding round her waist as he presses her against him fully, whispering words of love in her ear.

Feeling her body relax, he steps back, hand raising to brush her hair from her face before gripping her hands lightly. Stepping back, he helps her settle in the middle of the mattress, hands draping one of her thin, cotton sheets across her. As she turns her head to the side and watches him, he feels a tenderness fill him, and leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against hers before picking up the bottle of warming almond oil. With eyes bright, he slowly opens it, pouring a generous amount into his palms before rubbing it up and down his arms.

No more than half a minute passes when he hears her gasps slightly, and he knows that the second part of his relaxation seduction is working.

Carefully, he climbs onto the bed. Straddling her cotton covered hips, he pulls the sheet from her back and takes another generous amount of oil in his hands.

"Relax," he mutters, raising his hands to gently glide along the skin of her neck. "Close your eyes and feel."

With gentle thumbs and smooth strokes, he focuses his attention on working the long knotted muscles, rhythmic circular motion eventually banishing them. As he feels the tension slip from her neck, he begins moving over her shoulders, applying more pressure with the heels of his hands.

As he systematically reaches the tops of her arms, he lightens his touch until it is feather soft. Slowly, he caresses the length of her arms.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, each with more pressure than before, eliciting a moan of satisfaction from her tranquil body.

Leaning over, he takes more oil in his hands, rubbing them together to warm the golden liquid. Then, coating his chest in the warmed lubricate, he slides down her hips, his hands gliding in long, hard strokes the length of her back.

He feels her sigh and smiles as her body relaxes more into the mattress.

Palms of his hands gliding over her shoulder blades, he slowly slides his hands down her arms, fingers slipping between hers as he gently squeezes her hands. "Relax," he mutters at the slight tensing he feels in her body. He waits a moment, and then, the tension releases from her entire body. A warmness fills him at the complete trust she is giving to him, and he pauses a moment, pressing his lips against the back of her neck. Then, lifting himself, he slowly begins pressing his chest against the plain of her back, finding a slowly rhythm for this segment of his sensual massage. With each roll of his chest, he hears her moan into the pillow, her rump raising against him with each press, and he feels his body hardening at the movement.

At the sensual thoughts fill his mind, he fights back his own moan. Slowly Harry slides his hands back up her arms, his lips trailing the warmed, nutty skin of her neck. Thumbs tracing the curve of her spine, he slowly and gently applies pressure to the muscles, his mouth following the trail of his hands, the pause giving him time to regain control of his body. As he reaches the curve of her butt, he cups the cheeks in his fingers, squeezing the flesh as he moves to kneel between her legs.

"Harr..."

"Shh," he mutters, long fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

He's careful to avoid the area she so longs for him to touch, instead spending an inordinate amount of time skimming his fingers along her inner thighs.

She's squirming now, hips raising to meet his wandering fingers, and as he nears her delicate folds, he allows his fingers to slip between her lower lips, unable to deny her too long. Finding her soaking, he stills, his smile growing as he alters the course of his seduction slightly.

She wants him as much as he wants her.

Moving beside her, he stretches out, front against side, warm flesh on warm flesh, and sets his lips against the soft flesh behind her ear. As she sighs, he smiles, pressing against her even more as he slides a finger into her warm heat.

Then a second.

And a third.

At her audible gasp, he stills, his breath warm across her ear as he whispers his love for her. Feeling her body relax, he slowly begins moving his fingers, careful never to twist them too hard as he seeks the rigid bump of nerves he knows will have her mewling. At her sharp intake of breath, a sense of smugness fills him, and he begins applying more pressure, leisurely building her to a peak, only to pull back and build her up again, his hips reflexively thrusting against hers. It's only as she gasps again and twists her hips away that he becomes aware.

Hand slipping free to rest on her thigh, he lifts his face, worry filling him that he's done something to offend her.

"Ruth," he begins, only to find him cut off as she shakes her head, cheeks flushed as her arousal filled eyes meet his.

"I need _you_ inside. Of me. Now." Her sentence is punctuated by her small hand wrapping around his hardened flesh and it's his turn to moan at the feeling of her thumb brushing his engorged head, her name leaving his lips in a low moan. Her hand drops and he raises himself slowly, intent on helping her onto her back when he stops.

And groans.

Legs spread, she's raised her hips slightly, giving him the perfect view of her glistening sex, and it's now he wholly realizes what it is that she wants.

Moving, he covers her body with his as before, the hard plane of his chest pressing into her back, the head of his erection pressing into her opening, his hands gripping hers, and with a careful but potent thrust of his hips, he sheaths himself in her warmth.

And groans.

A moment passes as he waits for her to adjust to his length, and then, with one hand slipping under her, he begins to move, his fingers caressing her clitoris with each thrust, her body shuddering with his as she moves to meet him. It's fast and hard; what had started out as a leisurely seduction to induce sleep dissipating in a desperate need for release; and as she comes apart, he feels his own orgasm grip him.

Arms wrapped tightly around her waist, he falls to the side, her body rolling with his to rest snuggly against his chest. His breath is coming in rushes as he feels her shifting about, settling fully into him as she pulls the blankets over them.

"Are you okay?" he mutters into her hair.

"Perfect," she sleepily mumbles back, her hands settling on his.

Smiling, he pulls her closer, sighing as the change in her breathing soon lets him know she's fallen asleep. Pressing a kiss against her hair, he's soon following her, pleased that he's managed to - hopefully - cure her insomnia.

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_**AN: Thanks to all who've taken the time to review.**_


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